


雨の日

by Mel_S_Bancroft



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Fluff, Legend of Zelda References, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Rain, Sharing an umbrella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 00:12:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5561299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mel_S_Bancroft/pseuds/Mel_S_Bancroft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Ame no Hi | Rainy Days) Choutarou forgets his umbrella and Shishido is tsundere about sharing his. Silver Pair fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	雨の日

**Author's Note:**

> Plot? What plot? What is this thing you call "plot"?
> 
> I apologize for any out-of-character-ness that might occur. This is my first time writing this pair.

A small, frustrated groan came from Shishido’s left as he buttoned his shirt up. He glanced over. “What is it?”

Choutarou huffed, straightening from where he had been rummaging through his racquet bag on the ground, looking at Shishido almost despairingly. “I forgot my umbrella today.” He looked back to the still-open bag with minor disgust and continued: “At least it’s not raining too hard yet.”

Stuffing his tennis uniform into his own bag, the third year zipped it up and slung it over his shoulder. With his left hand he grabbed the umbrella he’d set on the bench earlier, then headed for the door, pulling it open with his right. He paused before stepping outside. “You coming?” he shot over his shoulder.

“Hai, Shishido-san!” The boy immediately brightened and hurried over.

Shishido nodded and thumbed open the umbrella, pointedly looking off to the side a little as he held it above him more than a few centimeters higher than usual. Sensing more than seeing his kouhai join him underneath, he set off in the direction of their houses, careful to keep a bit of distance between them. Guys don’t share umbrellas; only lovers or female best friends do.

Fingers brushed lightly against his that held the handle a few moments later. He startled. When he glanced over, hoping that ignoring the little heat rising to his face would make it go away. Choutarou had retreated his hand a bit and was looking at him almost apologetically. “I can carry the umbrella if you want, Shishido-san,” he said quietly.

Scowling, he faced forward and almost-shoved the umbrella toward the other to take it. His arm _was_ starting to feel sore from the different angle. Choutarou gently slid it from his grasp, and he let his arm swing freely down to his side.

He grumbled internally. Now he looked like the girl in the relationship. Not that they were in a relationship. And it wasn’t like he even wanted to be in a relationship with him either. But now he looked like the girl, and he didn’t like that. But he had no one to blame but himself; he _had_ been the one to offer his umbrella in the first place. Well, unless he blamed Choutarou for forgetting his umbrella, but he could never blame him for anything, nor could he just leave him out in the rain. That would be lame, and he’d be a bad senpai. So yeah. It was all his own damn fault that he looked like the damn girl.

As he felt eyes on him, the back of his neck prickled, jerking him out of his thoughts. He looked over, and Choutarou immediately and pointedly faced forward. Shishido made to turn away as well, but he found that he couldn’t. His eyes lingered on the curly, silvery hair, grey as the heavy clouds in the shadow of the umbrella; on the small beads of moisture from their earlier showers that still clung to the strands, having refused to be absorbed by the towel; on the lashes a little darker than the rest of his hair, framing soft hazel eyes; on the strong jawline befitting his equally strong personality, even if not many people could see through his gentle exterior to his true self; on the way his Adam’s apple moved up when he swallowed; on the silver cross that rested just below the hollow of his throat; on how the rain, falling much harder now than it had been when they’d left the clubhouse, had very nearly soaked the left shoulder of his uniform through—

He shifted closer until his shoulder brushed against his kouhai’s upper arm. “My shoulder’s soaked,” he replied gruffly to Choutarou’s startled glance, realizing belatedly that that was, indeed, the case.

“Sorry, Shishido-san,” he said, sounding almost more happy than apologetic. Shishido was facing forward again and missed the smile tugging at his lips, the pink dusting his cheeks. It was all he could do to hope that his own were unnoticeable.

They stopped just outside Choutarou’s house. The third year looked up at him expectantly, holding his hand out for the umbrella. But the boy didn’t seem to notice him; he looked nervous and was fidgeting slightly. Suddenly, the collected rain whipping off the fabric, he spun on his heel to face Shishido, his expression resolved into hopeful determination. “Would you like to come in, Shishido-san? At least until the rain lets up some.”

Shishido cocked an eyebrow before answering. “Sure. I’ll just call kaa-san and tell her.” They’d gone over to each other’s houses many times before, even slept over. Why the bloody hell was Choutarou nervous about asking now?

The second year smiled, and they both stepped under the awning as Choutarou closed the umbrella and shook the water off. He opened the door and called out, “Tadaima!” as he stepped through, depositing the still-dripping umbrella in the corner, out of the way. Shishido followed close behind with an “Ojamashimasu.”

An “Okaeri, Choutarou,” preceded Ootori-san sticking her head through the kitchen doorway. She smiled. “Ah, Ryou-kun! Will you be staying for dinner?”

“Aa. I’ll call kaa-san and let her know,” he replied as he slipped his shoes off and lined them up neatly in the genkan.

“Alright, you two have fun. I’ll call you down for dinner when it’s ready in about an hour,” she smiled as she disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Thanks, okaa-san,” Choutarou returned, bounding up the stairs to his bedroom with Shishido on his heels.

He made the call quickly upon reaching his friend’s room. Snapping the phone shut, he looked up to Choutarou holding out a pair of dry clothes, apologetically eyeing his wet pant legs and shirtsleeve. He accepted them and un-self-consciously began shedding his sodden clothing, in the process throwing his cap down onto his tennis bag. They were used to changing in the other’s presence from tennis and previous stays over, and they’d even seen each other naked in the locker room before too, so there was no real reason to feel embarrassed. But when Choutarou immediately turned quickly around to change, Shishido felt the sudden need to do so as well.

Finished, he stared down at the clothes he now wore and groaned. “I look like the girl again,” he muttered.

Light laughter bubbled up from Choutarou’s throat behind him. Scowling, his cheeks slightly flushed, he spun to find the second year grinning wide in amusement, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Isn’t a boyfriend shirt usually bigger though?” he teased.

It was true. But that didn’t change the fact that the plain T-shirt hung loosely from his shoulders and though he’d folded over the waistband of the sweatpants so they wouldn’t slide off his hips, the pant legs _still_ dragged on the floor.

“Che. It’s still lame. I should start leaving clothes here. I’m over often enough,” he said, chucking his school uniform at Choutarou for him to deal with.

The articles, not exactly made for flight, would have fallen short, but he leaned forward on one foot and snatched them out of the air with a certain grace that would have been more impressive had he not nearly fumbled. He laughed again, pink beginning to color his cheeks. “Hai.” He gathered his own uniform into his arms as well and trotted off to deposit them in the dryer.

Shishido crossed his arms over his chest and stared over at the television in the corner of his room. “Naa, Choutarou,” he drawled when he heard the footsteps return. “You ever figure out how to beat that trial in Zelda?”

“Um, I think so.”

“Cool.” He strode over to turn on the TV and Wii, then grabbed a controller and plopped down about a meter from the screen. His breath hitched when Choutarou sat down behind him, extending his legs on either side of him, wrapping his arms around his waist, and resting his chin on his left shoulder. Closing his eyes momentarily, he schooled his breathing and hoped the boy hadn’t noticed.

Shit, but Choutarou was wearing shorts and he had a nice pair of legs.

Which was almost a given, considering how much running they did on a near-daily basis. And Shishido was only just now noticing this, _why?_

Mentally he shook himself, forcing his eyes to return to the screen before him, blocking all else out.

After loading the game, Choutarou guided Shishido through what he remembered reading, sometimes placing his hand over the brunet’s on the control stick and steering Link in the right direction. Somehow they managed to collect most of the Tears okay—it was only through sheer force of will that Shishido kept his hands steady—until a Watcher snuck up from behind him and he couldn’t escape the Guardian quickly enough. Again.

“We got more Tears than last time though, Shishido-san,” Choutarou said in appeasement to the groan that Shishido let out upon watching the Guardian strike down a helpless Link with its greatsword.

Letting his hands and controller fall into his lap, he flopped backward, head and shoulders lightly thudding into Choutarou’s chest. “Yeah, but the fact that we had only two left to go just makes it worse. We were so close to the fourteenth!” he whined, gesturing vaguely at the screen with the controller. He tipped his head back and all his irritation left him as their eyes met. They held the gaze a moment, hardly daring to breathe.

Choutarou’s hand came up to gently brush the hair out of the brunet’s face—not that it was long enough to even fall in his face anymore. He closed his eyes, relishing in the feather-light touch, missing his long ponytail. He wondered what it would feel like to have Choutarou run his hands through it, to play with it—

The fingers had slid along his jawline to take his chin and tilt it upwards bare millimeters more and a soft warmth touched his lips.

 _Ah,_ Shishido thought distantly as he relaxed into that warmth, reaching up to wind his fingers through silver curls, guiding the boy’s head down to kiss him deeper. _That’s why he was nervous._

Outside, the rain continued to fall, splashing a quick, pattering tattoo across the surface of growing puddles on concrete and in grass.

**Author's Note:**

> I defend that the reason Shishido doesn't act more tsundere here is that he's at that stage where some part of him has already realized and accepted his feelings for Choutarou, but he himself still refuses to fully acknowledge them. Also, I couldn't really seem to fit it in, for whatever reason. I tried though, I really did. *sigh* I also feel like he should have protested Choutarou calling it a "boyfriend shirt" since they weren't going out, rather than just shrug it off, even though he knew Choutarou was merely teasing... Well, whatever. I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Those trials in LoZ are the bane of my existence.


End file.
